


the light of a dying moon.

by disarmingly



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: A Lot of Plot, Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Fighting, Gen, M/M, POV Alternating, Power Dynamics, Robots, Semi-Slow Burn, Sexual Tension, Yearning, because we all need giant robots that are powered by love, but that's why we slow burn, but they are so so important, hell yeah, pacrim au, relationships are complicated, some gore, some previous alina/mal and nikolai/zoya, there will be RELATIONSHIP THINGS later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28903383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disarmingly/pseuds/disarmingly
Summary: “We’re here to kill Kaiju and save the world,” Commander Lantsov tells them. “It’s really that simple.”aka. did y’all want a pacrim au? no? too bad.
Relationships: Mal Oretsev & Alina Starkov, Nikolai Lantsov/Mal Oretsev, Zoya Nazyalensky/Alina Starkov
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	the light of a dying moon.

**Author's Note:**

> once again a huge shoutout to @_sylbur_ (insta/twit) for being my au-brain-buddy and beta and first reader and everything, always, and thank you efflorescens for the additional beta reading.

ALINA STARKOV

Alina remembers the night in flashes.

An alarm. A red streak. Boulders crashing into sand. She remembers the rush of a successful drift, the spike of adrenaline, of determination, of  _ knowing they can win if they do this together _ . They could always do anything, if they were together.

The fight. The surge of pain and the triumph of a hit well placed. The fight goes on for so long, so, so long, but they’re still up and they can still do this and as always there is Mal’s voice, in her head, screaming  _ stay up, punch, duck, dive _ . 

The Kaiju screeches, ear-splitting and nightmarish, and lets loose a stream of plasma. They get their shield up, protect the body of the Shadow and Bone from the worst of it, and then there are more alarms. Alina looks up just in time to see the distorted figure of the Kaiju diving through the steam and smoke, its massive jaw open.

They don’t have time. 

Sparks, more alarms, a surge of power. They’re hit, it’s bad. And then there is the numbness, the sting of a solid piece of steel through her ribcage. She lets out a breath and it feels like there is liquid filling her mouth. She looks down, reaching for it, and finds nothing there. It’s not until she turns and sees Mal is on his knees, his hands shaking around the end of the shard of metal he can’t bring himself to touch, that she understands the chill that runs down her spine.

He looks over to her, eyes wide, and she can see the blood through the suit.

Alina turns towards the screens, hands on the controls. Distantly, someone is telling her  _ don’t, Starkov, don’t you dare you- know you can’t- _

She screams, punching forward, and it all dissolves into a blinding white light.

Sometime after that, when Mal is in the med bay and they’re back on solid ground again, the crew starts up a new nickname for her.  _ Sankta _ . Saint. Their guardian angel.

Alina doesn’t like it, but she doesn’t stop them, either.

\---

ZOYA NAZYALENSKY 

Zoya stands at attention at the doorway to Nikolai’s room. Normally, she wouldn’t bother with the formalities of it - they’d joined the Academy together, risen through the ranks alongside each other, worked and sweated and cried together. When Nikolai had been pulled out of the piloting program, she’d been as curious as anyone, but seeing him donning the pins and panels denoting his rank as General, she could understand why.

They’re supposed to be heading down to the main docking bay, greeting the pilots who had been re-stationed here earlier this week. Nikolai had been the primary persuasive force behind the collection of younger pilots to their base, explaining that they needed new blood, new eyes, but Zoya didn’t like it.

Considering how she is currently in charge of training all new recruits and that responsibility would fold into new pilots as well, she would have liked to have been a part of that decision-making process. Or any decision-making process that put  _ more _ hours on her plate and caused  _ her _ more stress, but that’s beside the point.

“Sir-”

Nikolai runs a hand through his hair, blond locks falling into place as he straightens his tie in the mirror above his sink.

“They’re not going to start without me, Nazyalensky. One of the perks of being in charge- it all  _ depends _ on them seeing my pretty face.”

Whatever formalities she’d been following don’t keep her from rolling her eyes, even if Nikolai has his back to her and therefore the break of the rules wouldn’t even be noticed. It’s the intention behind it, she thinks, annoyed.

“And-” he continues, running a hand down the front of his suit before reaching down to pull at the hem. The coat fits him perfectly, so there’s no need for the adjustments. It’s all just him preening. “That reminds me-” he turns, checking his jawline. “You’re going to meet your new co-pilot today.”

Zoya freezes, unsure if she heard him correctly. “What-?”

He tucks a last strand of hair back into place before turning to her. She resents him for how handsome and perfect he looks. Always had. Probably always will. He nods, though it’s more to himself than anything else. “I’ve done all the pre-screening. She’s extraordinarily talented, easy-going with others, and shares similar enough childhood trauma so your drift compatibility should be aligned.”

“You’re joking.”

Nikolai chuckles, mostly to himself, picking up a folder and rifling through it before setting it back down again. He’s looking for something, but Zoya is still too caught up on the  _ co-pilot _ bit to wonder what. “I am very funny, I’ll give you that, but this time- no. I’m not.” His voice settles on those last two words, and Zoya can feel Nikolai slide back into his commanding role. “Her name is Alina Starkov. She used to pilot the Shadow and Bone.”

A chill runs down her spine, but Zoya remains still, letting Nikolai pace about his room - picking up papers and folders, reading them over, setting them back down again as he continues to talk. He’s anxious, she realizes. Either that or he’s trying to stall. 

“Used to?” Her voice is clipped. Her anger bubbles up behind her ribcage, but her training is full-proof, even through her own anger. Plus, there is Nikolai’s tone to contend with. The more he slips into Commander, the more she settles as the soldier.

“There was an incident. Her co-pilot has since been decommissioned, as was the Shadow and Bone.” He appears to find what he’s looking for and turns, handing the folder to Zoya to carry. She doesn’t take it, nor does she take her eyes off of him. The refusal is on principle, and Nikolai can tell, which is why he simply holds her gaze, brows raised.

After a few moments, Zoya relents and grabs the folder from him with more force than is entirely necessary. Nikolai smiles at her, the kind of smile that tells her he has won and always will, and pushes past her to start off down the hall. Zoya turns and walks on his heels, scanning the contents of the folder as quickly as she can as they walk.

“It says here she’s only had one co-pilot.”

He hums. “That’s correct.”

“So her de-commissioned pilot- wait. She was  _ connected _ when they were attacked?”

Nikolai doesn’t slow a single step through the conversation, and Zoya feels a rising urge to throttle him. If only to give her a few more moments to read. 

“That’s what the report says. They went after a category four and were ambushed. Their Jaeger was disemboweled, but Starkov managed to neutralize the threat and bring her and her co-pilot back to the base.” It’s impossible, Zoya thinks. But despite the insanity of the story, Nikolai seems unbothered. “She survived the attack, the subsequent attacking Kaiju, and then saved herself, her co-pilot, and the base.”

Zoya wouldn’t believe him if she wasn’t reading the exact words from the report as he said them, and even so she has trouble. 

“So she’s a good pilot.”

“She’s an  _ extraordinary  _ pilot,” Nikolai corrects. “And she’s going to be your co-pilot.” 

“Sir-”

Nikolai stops, suddenly, and if Zoya were any less dexterous she would have collided directly into him. As it stands, she stops right before, her chin tilted up to meet his eyes. His dark hazel ones are hard, as is the set of his jaw. This close, and with that look, Zoya is reminded of why, and how, he manages his station so young. Why, and how, he can keep them all behind him. Her chest tightens a bit at how close they are, if only because it keeps the entirety of his directed look on her.

“It’s not up for discussion, Ranger Nazyalensky. We will welcome the new members of our base, we will show them how things are done here, and you and Starkov will begin your drift compatibility tests immediately thereafter. Do I make myself clear?”

Zoya feels a muscle jump in her jaw. As always, the urge to push back, to explain to him just how  _ unclear _ he has been and how ludicrous this idea is, is there. But the look in his eyes tells her all she needs to know about the consequences of those actions, and she swallows it back. For now. She’ll find another moment to bring it up. Now is not the time.

“Yes,  _ sir _ .”

And then Nikolai smiles, the intensity of the previous few moments all but gone. “Wonderful. Now let’s go be good hosts.”

\-----

MALYEN ORETSEV

Mal does not like the new base.

Granted- Mal hasn’t liked much of anything since they left Kribirsk. Not the food, or the travel, not the lack of or overwhelming amount of information, and definitely, certainly, completely, not the sound of the new  _ Commander _ .

Everyone in the Jaeger Program knew about Nikolai Lantsov. The youngest man to ever be promoted to Commander of a Jaeger base. The youngest Commander ever to successfully eradicate a level five. The youngest soldier to actually have a say in the Board of Directors, over movement and placement and strategy in fighting back. He was barely older than Mal himself, barely older than Alina, and yet he was commanding  _ armies _ of Jaegers despite the fact he - as far as Mal knows - hasn’t actually piloted one.

Mal did not want to be re-stationed. He wanted to settle back and rebuild and stay behind. He’s slowly gotten used to the idea of the command center, of a value he could provide even if he isn’t in the pilot seat. He’d finally gotten over the hump and made the decision to start shadowing, to get used to how the center ran, when they’d gotten the call. 

The entire crew of the Kribirsk Base was to be transferred to The Spinning Wheel (a dumb name for a base, if Mal said so himself) under the leadership of Commander Nikolai Lantsov. They would be reassigned once they arrived, and Mal decided, immediately after the announcement of the restationing, that he hated everything about this.

Alina had told him to look on the bright side of all of it, but Mal refused. Nikolai Lantsov wasn’t ever going to be someone Mal would want to follow. And he would always hate him. Because at least  _ then _ Mal wouldn’t have to face the fact there was no real, alternative option. Wouldn’t have to admit that the Kribirsk base didn’t exist, because Mal hadn’t been strong enough to protect it. 

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he and Alina join the rest of their remaining crew as they step out of the helicopter. Alina gives him a small smile when she helps him off, knowing that his injury still hurts. That he wakes up every morning, aching. Part of him wonders if she can feel it, considering their link at the time, but  _ that _ was an entirely different kind of guilt that Mal hasn’t been - and still isn’t - ready to face.

He nods at her, once, and accepts the help. Holds onto his bag as the large military-grade helicopter leaves them all on the side of the mountain.

“It’s cold,” He complains, waiting for the gusts of wind to settle. He waits a moment or two longer than he really needs to, before he notices that the wind is just due to their height above sea level, and not the helicopter. Which then means that it most likely won’t ever stop. Mal adds that to the list of things he hates about this place. 

“Mal…” Alina sighs, bumping her shoulder into his gently. “Come on. They’re waiting for us by the gate.”

“You’re  _ shivering _ , Alina.”

“We’re thousands of feet in the  _ air _ , Mal.”

Mal huffs, but follows her anyway, joining the rest of their crew just as a smaller woman with short-cropped hair and a large grin has just started speaking.

“-you can call it the Spinning Wheel. You’ll get your commands down below when we meet Commander Lantsov, but-”

“He couldn’t be bothered to welcome us himself? _ ” _ Mal ducks down to whisper to Alina. And for his work, she elbows him in his good side. Not hard, knowing how tender he still is. A part of him hates that, too. Hates how gently she feels she has to treat him.

“ _ Hush. _ ” 

“-and all pilots-” the woman’s voice rises over that word, and Mal and Alina look up in unison. They are the only remaining pilots out of their base, but really, she just means Alina. Mal also doesn’t like how, when he does look up, the woman is looking directly at him. “-will report down to the main docking bay. You’ll be introduced to the rest of the Rangers, there. Everyone else will receive your new commands tomorrow morning. If you need anything else, I am Tamar Kir-Bataar, one of the pilots of Yuyeh Sesh. If you have any questions, come find me. Okay!” She slides her tablet under her arm, clapping once. “Welcome to your new home, soldiers. Follow me!”

She turns, then, and heads inside the large hangar door. The others who came along with Alina and him turn and follow. But Mal hesitates, watching everyone fall in line behind her, Alina included. It’s another moment later that Alina notices, pausing to turn back and catch his eyes.

“Mal?” She tilts her head at him for a moment before sighing. “You were  _ just _ complaining you were cold. Will you hurry up?”

Mal doesn’t know how to explain to her the pit in his stomach. Doesn’t know how to put to words how it feels to hear  _ welcome home _ and know it’s not, really, for him.

Instead, he just shakes his head and starts in after her, following Alina into the elevator that leads them all down to the lower level. Mal can’t help but notice the upgraded technology, cleaner lines. He wonders, darkly, about budget allocations and favoritism, but keeps it to himself as Tamar leads them inside.

The lower deck is monstrous, and it just about takes Mal’s breath away. The cavernous space houses at  _ least _ four other Jaegers he’s heard of before, but never seen. Hundreds of bodies rush around the space, working on the machines or running crates of items back and forth across the- well. It seems strange to call it a room, seeing as Mal isn’t sure he’s been in an arena this large before.

He’s paying just enough attention to pull Alina to a stop with the rest of the group, tugging on her backpack before she crashes into one of their engineers. Tamar turns, bowing once to the group.

“I’ll see you all in the mess hall later tonight. Commander Lantsov will take it from here.”

And then, as if by cue, Mal notices an officer step out into the space behind Tamar, approaching with a wide, friendly smile, and an intense woman on his heels. The man is dressed in his uniform, all clean cuts and well-fitting material. Mal quickly notes just how many stripes and medals decorate his chest, and frowns as he can just barely make out the  _ LANTSOV _ name tag.

Mal is struck by how young he is, at first. Secondly, by how fitting it all seems to be. He’s handsome, with a sharp jaw and a strong face. Warm and inviting, charismatic, as he steps up to the group and looks them over.

“Welcome to the Spinning Wheel, everyone, and thank you, Tamar, for the introduction. As I’m sure you’re all aware, we are very excited to have you join our family here.” Commander Lantsov smiles, gesturing around him, and Mal’s frown is only rivaled by the dark look the woman behind the commander is giving the back of his head. One of the worst parts about it, he thinks, is the fact this man has the type of  _ voice _ for this. Loud and carrying, articulate and definitive. It’s the kind of voice made to give orders, and Mal feels his entire body tense with it.

Alina, under her breath, starts- “Oh. He’s…”

“Don’t say it,” he hisses, gritting his teeth.

“Younger than I thought.”

Mal huffs, crossing his arms over his chest a bit as the commander continues, pointing in vague directions where they can find the different areas of interest. Dorm rooms are on that level, mess hall down that way, storage and supplies, med bay. 

“And for our pilots-” Nikolai tilts his head a bit to get around the faces in the front, his eyes falling on Alina and Mal. Mal hates him a little for that, knowing that he’s been debriefed on Mal’s status. That he  _ knows _ Mal can’t pilot. “If you can follow Ranger Nazyalensky, she’ll show you where the training rooms, drifting centers, and command centers are.”

There’s a hush that spreads out over their group, and Mal feels his neck get hot. Alina, subtly, moves a step closer to him. Protective. And the commander’s eyes simply go wide, looking around at the reaction like he could possibly be clueless.

“I do mean both. Unless you have more than two pilots in your group? Nazyalensky, did I miss a meeting?” He looks back to the intense woman who shakes her head in one quick motion, and then he shrugs, returning to the group. “Well. Then. Starkov, Oretsev, when we’re done here follow Nazyalensky for your tour. Anyone else here who has piloted a Jaeger- successfully- can join them.” 

Mal can’t tell if he’s being made fun of, or if there is something he’s not understanding. The still-healing wound in his chest aches with his confusion, as if trying to remind him  _ why _ he isn’t allowed back in a Jaeger. The frown on Mal’s face deepens, but in that exact moment, Lantsov meets his eyes. Where Mal’s are dark, angry at what he assumes to be some kind of joke, Commander Lantsov’s are definitive. Hard. As if challenging Mal to question him in front of the others. Mal wonders what would happen if he did. 

Then, after the moment passes, Lantsov continues. “Anyone who  _ can _ pilot will know where everything is in my base. Is that clear?”

And they all - as soldiers do - answer in sync. “Yes, sir.”

The smile that follows only feeds into Mal’s anger - self-righteous and knowing. Something like a power trip, in a single expression. “God, I love that. Alright, so protocols-”

Mal stops listening sometime after that, picking up on every other word. Schedules, rules, who to ask with questions, who to go to with problems. Lantsov explains that while it was at one time a government facility, and that everyone inside is employed by their respective governmental bodies, that the base itself is privately funded (go figures) and that they are on international ground. They report to international security breaches and work in tandem with a variety of different bodies of government for the sake of global protection.

“I am not asking you to forgo your loyalty to your countries. If anything, I’m asking you to include me, and this base, within that. This is your home, for as long as you are stationed here, and I’m asking you to protect this home, as well as your own.” There is a genuine charm to the way he speaks that Mal can’t help but be drawn to, after a while. An animation to his expressions. Where he’s just as likely to slide in a groan-worthy comment about his own capabilities (or looks), there’s an earnestness that is not missed. An honesty that catches all of their attention.

It doesn’t change how much Mal wants to  _ throttle _ him, all formalities and rules and laws aside. But he can understand why, as they move through the different rooms, each and every member of this base seems to look at Lantsov with the kind of look Mal rarely has seen on military bases. Actual, true devotion. 

Plus- and Mal isn’t so stubborn as to not be able to admit it to himself- he is quite handsome. Unnecessarily handsome. Annoyingly so.

At the end of the speech, Lantsov breaks out into another grin. The kind that has each and every member of the Kribirsk base leaning a bit closer to him.

“We’re here to kill Kaiju and save the world,” Commander Lantsov tells them. “It’s really that simple.” 

They all cheer, some of the others throwing their fists up in the air in solidarity, and even Mal can’t ignore the sudden swell of pride and conviction that follows.

_ He’s good _ . _ No wonder he’s a commander. _

Mal feels Alina stand a bit straighter next to him. Glances over to see her honestly smile, strong and hopeful. It catches him a bit off-guard, realizing how long it’s been since he’s seen her with that look. How quickly someone else could get her to smile like that. And when his eyes turn to Commander Lantsov’s, they’re on him in return. Mal notices something in the look, a kind of expectation and curiosity wrapped into a single moment, and he’s uncertain on how to feel about it. Uncertain as to why Lantsov seems so intent on whether or not  _ he’s _ in agreement here, but when the commander nods, Mal finds himself nodding back.

Maybe the base won’t be as bad as he first imagined. Maybe there’s something here worth sticking around for. 

And maybe, Mal realizes with a slight chill cutting through his coat, he doesn’t really have a choice.

  
  


\---

NIKOLAI LANTSOV

“Sir.”

Nikolai is tired, but that is both expected and par for the course. 

He leaves the new recruits after his speech, with Tamar at his heels and a request from David for him to come to the research bay. He doesn’t need to look for Tamar to know she’s keeping pace with him, so he heads down the hall and into the elevator to take him to Research, lost in thought.

If he were being honest with himself, he’d admit that he had wanted to stay behind for the actual tour. Have a chance to spend more time with Starkov and Oretsev and see if they are everything he’d hoped they would be. Of course, there’s always the possibility that his theories weren’t true. That the plans he’d made and ideas he’d concocted were wholly and entirely off-center. 

But he doesn’t think that’s the case. He’d noticed the way the other soldiers from their base had walked with the two pilots. The easy companionship the group of them had. He’d noticed how Starkov held herself and how Orestsev had looked all the stubborn, protective soldier that Nikolai had assumed him to be. There hadn’t been enough time for him to observe the two beyond that during his introductions, so he can’t know anything for certain, but if everything  _ works _ as it’s supposed to...

“Sir.”

“If you’re going to critique my speech, Kir-Bataar, I request that it be concise and certain.”

Tamar is quiet for another moment, which gives Nikolai just enough time to start rethinking giving her the opportunity but not nearly enough time for him to build up adequate answers for everything she could possibly ask about. And right when he thinks he’ll interject again, keep her from what he assumes to be a litany of issues, she finally lets out a breath.

“I like the new pilots.” The casualness of the statement pulls Nikolai’s eyes over to her, a curious brow arched, and without even a look, Tamar gives him a shrug. “I read their files, you left them out on the desk. And I think you’re insane and a bit cruel to still include Oretsev in the pilot listing on base when we all know he’s decommissioned and won’t get back into a jaeger this war or this lifetime, but I like him well enough. Respect his work and what he’s done, for sure.”

Nikolai nods, turning back towards the Research Labs. The smell always begins around this section of the hallway, and Nikolai makes another mental note to ask  _ someone _ to do something about this. “And their guardian angel?”Nikolai’s thoughts wander briefly to dark, determined, stubborn eyes glaring back at him, but he pushes the thought away.

He expects Tamar to snort, or to make some comment about unnecessary nicknames and how it doesn’t help the work and how it’s ridiculous to hold any  _ person _ to that level of reverence. Even in just a name. In all honesty, he could think of a few hundred things Tamar could say in response to his question, but the silence is not anywhere near the top of that list.

They reach the doors with the large, military-grade letters RESEARCH painted over them. At some point, Nikolai had planned on upgrading the whole of the base so that it didn’t look like some underground hanger abandoned by the armed forces, and he chides himself for not getting to it faster. It looks a bit ridiculous, to him, but he assumes it much match what the other soldiers are expecting to find. All concrete and steel and swathes of brightly colored spray paint.

Right before they reach the door, he glances over to look at Tamar again, curious as to her continued silence, and he finds her jaw set tight. It stops him, momentarily, in his tracks.

“What is it?”

She pauses, as if considering her words, before she shakes her head. “There’s something about her. Something different.”

Nikolai frowns. “Something I should be aware of?”

Tamar looks up to him and catches Nikolai’s look, meeting the gaze with a kind of serious intensity that both worries and grounds him. “No, because I’m pretty sure it’s the reason you brought her on.”

“Is it?”

Tamar huffs, and that serious look turns back into something a bit more casual. Familiar. “I’m saying I think she might actually be a good co-pilot for Zoya. I think they might actually drift well. That Alina Starkov- she’s got something important ahead of her. Something big.”

Nikolai pauses, just for a moment, at the confirmation of his worry. At a chance that he took - as measured and calculated as he could make it - being reaffirmed so quickly. 

Especially when it comes to Zoya. She has been the base’s best pilot for as long as Nikolai has been running it. Honestly, she was the entire  _ program’s _ best pilot until the Starkov-Oretsev story broke out. She and Nikolai had been the top of their class at the Academy, had been projected to be the saviors of the world. And honestly- Zoya could probably do it. Chase down the Kaijus to their home, destroy them all piece by piece. He wouldn’t have put it past her, not then and not now.

Except that even with a willpower as strong as her’s, even with all her talent and all her skill, finding her a drift-compatible partner had proven to be nearly impossible.

Nearly.

For the better half of the last year and a half, it had been Nikolai’s obsession. Bringing in pilots from all over the world to test their strength against her. No one had lasted more than a day, whether it be the actual training itself or simply Zoya’s shining personality.

Which only incensed him further.

Bringing in Starkov had been a chance idea, the biggest differentiating factor being his gut. Each and every candidate before had never really  _ felt  _ right. Too cocky, too quiet, too weak, too strong-willed, or not strong-willed enough. It had become a point of contention between the two of them - Nikolai who would  _ not _ let one of the best pilots of their entire generation be benched, and Zoya who resented Nikolai putting her through the wringer each time a new potential showed up.

But Alina - Alina was a risk. A feeling he had the second he read about the incident, when the news story had been sent to him by another Commander on the board. The entire Kribirsk base had folded because of the damage sustained, but those people. That pilot.  _ There is something about her. _

Nikolai’s pause only lasts for that moment, though, until he brings himself back and all that worry and self uncertainty is pushed back a little further down into his chest, a grin taking the place of that pause. “You know, for as often as I’m right, it  _ never _ gets old hearing you say it.”

He’s met with a blank, unamused look, and Nikolai grins in response to it, finally turning back and stepping through the sliding doors into David’s lab. Though he should probably say David and Genya’s lab, with how often the two of them split duties down here.

“Alright, Kostyk. This better be good news or I’m cutting your funding.”

From further inside, David’s voice rises - suddenly quite terrified. “Y-you’re  _ what _ ?”


End file.
